


The Prongsfoot Effect

by FiendMaz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Banter, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, James Potter Lives, Light-Hearted, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black Raises Harry Potter, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 11:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21319465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiendMaz/pseuds/FiendMaz
Summary: A normal morning was any morning waking up to one of the two adults in the Black-Potter House cursing up a storm.
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter & James Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black/James Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 167





	The Prongsfoot Effect

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as Prongsfoot being Harry's parents since the beginning or after Lily died.

“Bollocks!”

A normal morning was any morning waking up to one of the two adults in the Black-Potter House cursing up a storm. This was a fact cemented through a whole decade of the same thing happening nearly every day except, of course, on quiet mornings when the potential for disaster was inevitable. Thankfully, it was a normal morning which meant Harry woke up lazily and luxuriated on his bed like a cat bathing in the sunlight.

He was yawning when his door flung open and he caught a bleary glimpse of his father traipsing past his room, wand a waving and a disgruntled expression on his face. His second yawn came along with no fanfare and he rolled off his bed to stumble to a stand so he could get his morning routine done and over with.

The smell of burnt toast reached his nose before he even made it halfway down the stairs and he snorted. Sirius was the only one who could burn something as simple as toast yet make sumptuous dishes like the Sexy Black Orecchiette – which was just a racy name for an, admittedly, Michelin-worthy pasta dish – was beyond him. But logic didn’t apply to Sirius Black.

Harry poked his head in the kitchen to survey the area. As expected, Sirius was by the stove cooking something that could probably make the most devout monk break fasting and his father was doing damage control next to the smoking toaster. Yeah, a very normal morning indeed. He grinned and waltzed over to the empty stool bar next to his father. “Morning! What are you making, Siri?”

“Mornin’, prongslet!” Sirius swiveled around with a wide grin, pan in hand and back to the open stove. “Baked Flounder in the oven and I’m cooking up some eggs.” He showed off the frying sunny-side up eggs with a self-satisfied air. “Want some fluffy pancakes too?”

“The fire, Si,” James drawled like he wasn’t warning about a potential hazard.

Harry, far too used to this, didn’t even bother blinking. “Pancakes sound good. Crepes sound better.”

“Buttered crepes with a squeeze of lemon and a good sprinkle of brown sugar coming right up!”

“You spoil him too much, Sirius,” James said as he tossed away a bag of burnt toast into the trash along with the toaster – second one this week. Then, he stood and guided Sirius to turn around to place the pan back on the stove. “I want some crispy Belgian waffles.”

"Bloody hypocrite,” Harry scoffed playfully.

James clutched at his chest dramatically. “My own son! It’s your fault.” He flicked Sirius lightly on the cheek to an offended squawk and, maturely, they stuck their tongues out at each other. “You’re a bad influence –,”

“I’m a great influence!”

“– and you keep cursing like there’s no child in the house.”

“I’m not a child!”

“You _were_,” James retorted.

Sirius waved his spatula carelessly, uncaring about the hot oil raining around behind him. “He grew up eventually, didn’t he? Bet you he learned more curse words in his one year at Hogwarts than he did living with me.”

“It’s true but,” Harry laughed, “not by much.”

“Ringing endorsement, that.” James made a face at Harry and flipped on the coffee machine.

Immediately, the smell of rich chocolate and vanilla mingled with the rest of the scents in the kitchen. Harry hummed contentedly and draped himself on the counter, cheek pressed onto the cold marble. “Can I have some blueberry juice?”

James opened the fridge before the question was even finished. “’Course you can, prongslet.” He grabbed one of the dark glass bottles and closed the fridge with his arse. “Here you go.”

The bottle slid across the counter and skidded to a stop an inch from Harry’s face with the aid of magic. “Cheers.” He opened the bottle with an easy snap and took a generous sip all without lifting his head up.

“You’re as lazy as Padfoot honestly.” James shook his head.

Sirius threw an eggshell at him. “Sod off. You love Padfoot!”

“It’s okay,” Harry assured with a teasing grin, “even if he denies it, we know that’s true.”

“Dog House!” James threatened in vain.

“Couch,” Sirius retorted, “specifically, the white one.”

“OI!” James cried in outrage.

Harry shared a look with Sirius and then made a low noise mimicking a dying whale.

“That white couch is _cursed _I tell you. Even Remus won’t sit on it and you know his senses are greater than all three of ours combined!”

“HEY!” Harry and Sirius protested.

“Insult yourself,” Sirius waved his spatula at James, flicking bits of crepe batter around.

Harry nodded adamantly. “And leave us out of it!”

“Who sired you?” James asked rhetorically. “You’re supposed to side with me.”

“Oh, is that what a child is for?”

James pouted. “Why are you being cheeky with me?” he whined.

“Because you’re both children,” Sirius answered, sliding two full plates to the both of them.

“Pot, kettle much,” James muttered absently, too absorbed with the heavenly-looking plate of crispy Belgian waffles doused in maple syrup whipped up for him. “Where’s your food? And the eggs?”

“_I _am having the baked Flounders and eggs alone unlike some greedy lil shites I know.” Sirius pointed his spatula at the both of them before turning around to grab the dishes he just mentioned.

Harry would’ve countered the jibe but his mouth was full of his favoured crepe and a glance at his father told him that James was in the same predicament but with waffles. So he did what he had to do and defended himself with gibberish: “mmnfmnffmmmnf!”

“Uh huh.” Sirius was smirking when he pivoted, steaming plate of baked Flounder in one hand and a plate of fried eggs in another. “Eat up, you handsome gluttons,” he snickered at the twin Potter glare directed at him and laid the full plates down on the centre of the counter before getting himself an empty plate.

The coffee machine made a hissing noise and three mugs of piping hot coffee floated over to the trio.

“At least we’re handsome,” James pointed out once he swallowed and took a swig of fresh coffee.

Harry shrugged and nodded. He’d shoved in a mouthful of crepe again.

“Potter genes. It is a great gift,” Sirius winked. He sliced through the big slab of baked Flounder with much relish and delightedly showed them the milky white juice that spilled out. “Et voilà!”

“You’re not French, you tosspot.”

“Stop stepping on my moment, you berk.”

Harry threw mini-pillows he’d conjured at both of them. “Great job, Si.”

“Thank you!” Sirius set aside the mini-pillow next to his plate and stole James’ so he could toss it on the floor. “Hah!”

“Tosser!” James retaliated by snatching Sirius’ mini-pillow and pocketing it.

Harry just shook his head and continued eating, smile practically etched onto his face. It was good to be back home for the summer holidays. He really did miss it when he went to Hogwarts though school did quickly become a second home for him as promised by his fathers. “I really did miss this.”

The bickering from the adults stopped immediately and when he looked up, Harry was taken aback by the heart eyes on his fathers’ faces. A blush stole across his cheeks which only flamed harder at the double cooing they did in response. There was only one thing to do: he made a run for it.

Shrieks of laughter and loud barks filled the rest of the normal morning in the Black-Potter Home.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a kudos and comment! ❤️
> 
> -  
Come find me: [Tumblr](https://maztri.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fiendmaztri)


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